


Scarred Memories

by LeesaPerrie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-22
Updated: 2007-05-22
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeesaPerrie/pseuds/LeesaPerrie
Summary: Rodney has scars he doesn't want to talk about...





	Scarred Memories

**Scarred Memories  
By Leesa Perrie**

Only a handful of medical people had ever seen my scars before I came to Atlantis, and even fewer knew the truth about them.

It was different on Atlantis.

Carson, of course, was the first to see them. The Expedition physicals had been done on Earth by various medical staff, and it was just my usual rotten luck that I’d gotten Carson and not one of the nameless people I’d probably never see again. Not that it would have made a difference in the end, the amount of times I’ve ended up in the infirmary since coming here.

Of course, it didn’t help that Carson, as the Chief Medical Officer of the Atlantis Expedition, had access to my full medical files, not to mention all the reports from all the psychiatrists I’d seen in my life; which was far more than I’d like to admit to. Though most of them were down to my parents who, when I was a kid, wanted them to fix my so-called ‘attitude problems’, saving them the trouble of trying to fix me themselves. It hadn’t worked; most of the professionals soon realised the source of my problems, but my parents wouldn’t listen to criticism and would just send me to another psychiatrist instead. 

So I’d learned to hide myself inside a wall of arrogance and sarcasm. A wall that only a very few had ever broached, usually before turning on me; using me and casting me aside when I was no longer needed; never wanted. Just like… no, not going there.

Some scars weren’t physical, I knew that.

Some were. 

Some were both.

Carson never said anything to me about the scars, though he must have known how they’d happened. He never pried or pushed, just let me be.

Sheppard was the next one to see them. We were off world, and the mission had gone bad; no big surprise there. Trapped for two days in the wilderness, unable to get back to the gate until the angry natives got tired of guarding it, or became careless, or Atlantis sent rescue, we lived off our rations and the few plants and fruit that Teyla recognised as safe to eat, as well as some small rodent-like animals that we, well, the others, not me of course, caught and prepared over a small fire. It wasn’t exactly fun.

We also stank. 

On the second day, Sheppard insisted that we got cleaned up in a river, and despite my best efforts to hide my back from the others’ view, Sheppard caught sight of it and the scars. But he said nothing. At least, not then.

Rescue came that night, and it was a few days later that Sheppard turned up, casually mentioning the scars, wondering how they’d happened.

I told him it was none of his business, and stormed out on him when he didn’t seem to want to let it drop.

He got the message then; that this topic was off limits. 

Then the storm to end all storms came and went, and I had another new scar to add to my list. Well, scars. Two deep cuts, that was all that it took. That, and threatening worse for Elizabeth. Not that I’d ever tell her that, she’d been shaken up by the events enough without that added knowledge as well.

It was on another mission gone bad that Teyla saw my scars. A bullet had clipped me, ripping a deep gouge across my back, left to right. It stung, to say the least, and Teyla patched me up, not asking the questions I could see in her eyes, for which I was grateful.

Ford never did get to see them, and I doubt the others told him.

A few nurses must have seen them in my time here, but they don’t count. It didn’t matter to me what they thought about the scars, about me.

It was much later, after Ronon had joined us, and I had caused the death of most of a solar system, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, that another person saw the scars. And it wasn’t him.

It was Elizabeth.

She had wandered into the infirmary at the wrong moment, well, the wrong moment as far as I was concerned, and caught a glimpse of my back before the nurse managed to slip me into a scrub top. I wasn’t totally aware of things at the time, what with the head injury and the whole nearly freezing to death thing. Oh, and the nearly drowning thing too.

Of course, she asked me about them. I told her it was something I didn’t want to talk about, not snapping at her like with others in the past. It was never a good idea to snap at Elizabeth, and not just because she was my boss either.

Fortunately, she didn’t push me for an answer, but I suspect she asked Carson. Not that he would have told her, the doctor/patient confidentiality kicking in. He was only obliged to break it in specific situations, usually to do with the safety of the Expedition. This wouldn’t come under that. 

Ronon found out whilst we were off world again, having to camp overnight. My mistake, I was careless and he spotted the scars before I slipped into my sleeping bag. I should have kept my shirt on, but it was warm. Not so warm I didn’t want the sleeping bag, but too hot for a shirt as well.

He never said anything, of course. He knew that I knew he’d seen them, and if I wanted to talk about them then I would, if not, then not. It always seemed to be that simple for him, but then he didn’t talk much about his own scars, physical or mental.

In the end, it was a moment of casual conversation between team-mates that brought it all to the surface again. 

A stupid competition about who had the most scars, or some macho thing like that. I say macho because Teyla didn’t seem too impressed with it, and it was really a competition between Sheppard and Ronon.

Ronon was winning. Not so much with quantity, they were pretty evenly tied in that respect, but more for how he had gotten them. Fighting the Wraith mainly, which he seemed inordinately proud of, though his tracker scars bothered him greatly. At least, I think they did. It certainly seemed that way to me, though I could have misread him. I’m still not exactly good at reading my team.

Sheppard’s came from falling off his bike as a kid, a surfing accident, from his time in Afghanistan and here. Sure, the latter two were bad, or good if you were looking at it from a certain Runner’s point of view, but the former two rather spoilt the image.

It was after a certain Kolya/Wraith incident. Apparently returning life to Sheppard didn’t include removing old scars, though the hand print from the feeding was gone. I was absently rubbing the two very faint scars on my right arm. A knowing look passed between my team-mates; even Ronon knew about these, having heard about the storm incident at some point, as background on Kolya; he also knew about Dagan. 

I ignored the look, wrapping my arms around me to stop myself from tracing the faint lines anymore, and wondered how they would react to the story about my other, pre-Atlantis scars.

And I don’t know why; to this day I can’t fathom it out; can’t work out why I told them. 

I’m blaming it on allergies. Something in the air that must have affected me.

Either that, or the recent almost-loss of two of my team-mates affected me more deeply than I care to admit.

Of course, it could just have been time to share it with my friends.

“It happened when I was in Russia,” I started, pointing towards my back.

“I don’t remember anything in the reports.” That was Sheppard, who of course had read my personnel file.

“No. It’s in my medical file, but I asked for it not be put in any other reports, and seeing as the Russians were partly to blame, they were happy enough to do that.”

“What happened?” Ronon this time, to the point as ever. I sighed, keeping my eyes down, unsure why I was doing this and nervous of their response.

“America’s not the only country with rogue operatives. Russia has a few rogue agencies as well. One of them targeted me, tried to kidnap me. Fortunately they failed, and security was stepped up. I had to go everywhere with a couple of bodyguards, which was extremely annoying, but necessary.

“It was shortly after that that Lilya Kaminski came to work on the project. She was reasonably smart, very hot and, amazingly enough, interested in me. Of course, it was all too good to be true, and I should have suspected something from the start, but…” I shrugged. Lilya had been so free, so loving, and I had been alone for a long, long time. It was a sad state of affairs when that kiss on the cheek from Carter had been the first sign of affection anyone had shown me for too many years to consider. Certainly since working for the US Air Force. Possibly even since leaving college.

“I believe that there is a saying among your people; that love is blind. It is one of your truer sayings.” And that was Teyla, wonderful Teyla; always the diplomat Well, when she wasn’t kicking ass of course. 

“There’s blind and there’s stupid,” I said, with a self-depreciating smile. “I fell into the latter on this occasion. But she was so…wonderful. Of course, she worked for the group that had tried to kidnap me. So much for the Russian’s idea of screening their employees.”

“Still haven’t said how you got those scars.” Ronon pointed out to me. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Yes, well, I’m getting there,” I snapped in irritation, before rubbing my face with my hands, and sighing again. “There were several projects at the research centre I was based at, and although I had originally been sent to oversee the Russians’ naquadah project, I ended up involved with a few other projects as well. I walked in on Lilya whilst she was downloading data from my computer and of course I confronted her, and found out what a total fool I’d been. 

“She had a knife and decided to take me with her, holding the knife so that it was hidden behind me. I managed to tip off my bodyguards though, with a pre-arranged hand signal. She didn’t know about those, fortunately. They told her to halt, but of course she used me as a hostage to try and get out of there. In the confusion, she knifed me before she was shot and killed. 

“Thankfully, she didn’t hit any vital organs, but even so, I nearly bled to death before the medics arrived. It was a race to save me apparently.”

“But they did.”

“Do I look dead to you?” I said sharply to Sheppard, annoyed with the obviousness of his statement. He merely smirked back at me in that irritating way of his.

It was strange. I expected…ridicule maybe…for being such a fool, to fall for Lilya’s seduction. But all I got was understanding. Which actually didn’t surprise me as much as it should have.

I think, deep down, I knew they wouldn’t ridicule me.

It wasn’t just that I’d been such a fool; that wasn’t the only reason the scars bothered me. No, it was because, despite everything, I still loved her. I fell for her in a way I’ve never fallen for anyone before, or since. I had even been thinking that I might marry her one day. 

I admitted this to my team as well, and no one told me I was a fool for still feeling that way. For still loving her, mourning her, even after everything that she did; betraying and nearly killing me.

What stings worse than anything else is that I know she never loved me, that it was all an act, and yet that doesn’t stop me from wishing things were different, for wanting her back.

And just how crazy is that?

And now, months later, the scars are gone, along with Ronon’s tracker scars. He seems to appreciate that gesture, seems glad that they are gone. I know it’s only physical, that it can’t heal the mental wounds, but he seems happy about it.

I know I’m happy about it. Even though I thought I was dying, I wanted all of my scars gone; especially those on my back. 

I survived, and they’re gone. And although it’s only physical, somehow it’s more. The part of me that still wants what I can’t have is fading now. Replaced by something else. Friendship, belonging, family; love. 

I believe Ronon would understand what I mean. I think we have more in common than most people think we do.

No, I don’t think it.

I know.

The End


End file.
